


Goodnight

by twosockles



Series: Winter 1992 [1]
Category: Futur Radio, Original Work
Genre: Being the designated driver of a hot drunk mess of a man? Maybe a problem, Getting drunk and trying to talk to your co-worker-turned-friend again? No problem, Non-binary character, Office Party, Other, holiday party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:36:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosockles/pseuds/twosockles
Summary: Lou has made it nearly to the end of the Office Holiday Party without incident, That is until one Basil Reissner comes along. (Original Post date: Dec 19th 2019)





	Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> I HIGHLY recommend reading (at minimum) "Starving" so you have a grip on Louie. Pre-reading "Ashes to Ashes" will also make this relationship a bit more of a slow burn. 
> 
> If you don't feel up to it, note that Louie uses they/them and he/him pronouns.

There are two strategies one can take when it comes to parties: maximize the time spent having fun or minimize the amount of embarrassment inflicted upon oneself. Work parties were a special kind of hell, one where one incident would become the new in joke for months. If you were lucky, you could laugh at it too. If you weren’t, it was time to consider changing careers.

Louie Cordonnier-Wicken firmly placed themselves in camp “minimization of embarrassment” but had somehow managed to make it over halfway through the Office Holiday Party without any major hiccups. The worst thing that had happened so far was light teasing from the usual suspects, and two very stilted conversations about ‘how Hanukkah had been’. The answer was “actually, it’s still going on,” which was met with either an apologetic “oh, right,” or a look of deep confusion.

It felt strange to be surrounded by coworkers who’s faces Lou certainly knew, but not much else beyond that. While the start of the party had seen a decent turn out, attendance waned by the hour mark as those with families headed home to be with them. Four hours in, people who weren’t going anywhere had settled into chairs and couches for games and chit-chat.

At least the food was good. Breads, cakes, sweets and deviled eggs replaced the usual piles of paper and folders around the office. Lou made themselves well acquainted with the Christmas Stolen. It was one of those foods which Lou had been aware of, but never tasted before. Once the marzipan core had revealed itself…whatever came after acquaintances is what Lou felt for Stolen.

Wandering the room without a conversation partner, Lou catches Lydon putting on his coat and saying his goodbyes. He’s leaving far earlier than his typical ‘first one in, last one out’ reputation would hold him to, but it clicks when Lou overhears the words ‘Lemma’ and ‘early morning’. Lou accidentally makes eye contact, and Lydon smiles at him.

"Have a good night Wicken." Lydon's face looks sincere, something small, but real between them. Louie raises a hand in goodbye, their mouth sort of remembering to smile.  
They left for the kitchen after that, finding it easier to weave through the thinned crowd. 

The kitchen is hidden away from the noise and bustle, and they breathe a sigh of relief as the vacancy of the room felt like air into a drowning man's lungs. Lou pours themselves another drink and looks for a place to hold out for the remaining hours of the party.

Sliding down a wall in a room nearby, Lou considers the evening to have been somewhat successful, as far as social events could go. Conversation still worked out best when Lou contributed little. The one joke they tried to tell got tangled up in their nerves and they couldn't get it out. Luckily, he had been talking to Margaret, the head secretary, who thought it was hilarious he had even tried to tell a joke.

They used to know jokes. Of course, most of them were in French, but they used to make people laugh. Their delivery is all wrong now, their affect too static. The self-deprecating reflection starts to make them feel hollow like the ornamental gourds lying around the office, when Lou is snapped out of their ruminations by a voice approaching in their blind spot.

"Hey, Lou.”

It was Bec's voice, whom Lou had started off the evening hovering near, but eventually avoiding altogether. Sober Bec could be catty and childish, but drunk Bec was a wildcard depending how far gone he was.

Lou glanced up and over. Bec pressed a hand to the wall and smiled down at him. The detective had traded his typical brown three-piece suit for a red Christmas sweater and similar tie. His ponytail had come slightly loose, a few extra lose strands framing his face haphazardly.

Sitting there in silver and grey, Lou felt a renewed sense of displacement.

"Evening Mr. Reissner."

"Evening. Mind if I sit?" Lou shrugged, Bec took it as a yes and slid down the wall to join him in the floor. He reeked like malt whisky, and even in the dim light Lou could tell Bec was looking worn out.

"What are you drinking? I want it." Bec doesn’t wait for Lou’s response before taking the cup from his hands. In an all too practiced motion, he downs the contents, and frowns.

"...Is this seltzer water? Lou you're boring."

"Of course it's seltzer water, I'm driving."

"Bleagh." Bec knocks the cup on the ground, which had little effect considering it was empty and made of plastic.

"I'm driving you home, so be grateful."

"Hm." Bec props up an elbow on his knees and leans his cheek into it. "That was nice of you to offer."

Offering the services of being the designated driver hadn't been entirely altruistic. The real reason Lou didn't want to drink tonight was because he feared the social consequences of getting drunk on his first workplace Holiday party. Maybe at the next one, or the one five years from now would drinking be okay. As a driver, he was safe for the night.

Or at least, safe from one of the many potential dangers of the evening. 

"You should probably get some more water." Lou begins to rise to a standing position.

"I'm OK."

"Well I want some water, you drank mine."

Bec gives him a weird frown. Not his typical "you're on my last nerves" or "this isn't an argument, but it's gonna be one" frown. No,  
it looked like an expression of disproportionate guilt.

"I'll be right back, the kitchen is just around the corner." He stands and rounds the corner.

Lou returns with two glasses of water, which Bec accepts and immediately drinks.

"Eww, it's plain water."

Lou sighed, loud and prolonged.

“It's all you should be drinking at this point.” Lou pauses, looking towards Bec, who looked deep in thought as he half-crushes a plastic cup. 

“Lydon vous manque?”

“Non, ne pas ça, “The detective pauses as a loud crunch of plastic fills the gap in conversation.

"I don't know why I'm not having fun. I plan these events, it should be fun." Bec lets the cup fall to the floor.

"Hmm." Lou had no idea what to say to that, mostly because he was coming at the problem with the view that he rather be anywhere else. 

"Lou."

"Hm"

"Louie."

"What."

"I'm really sad."

Bec was always sad. He never had to say it, it was in his smile, his shoulders. He never talked about it through.

"It's probably the alcohol. It's a depressant."

"Do I drink too much?"

Yes, is what Lou wanted to say. You drink after nearly every shift, it's borderline, if not already alcoholism.

"I think you mean "Did I drink too much" and the answer is yes. I'm cutting you off."

Bec didn’t appear to be fazed by the prospect.

"If I need to throw up will you help me to the sink?”

"I don't want you to do it in the hallway.”

Bec laughed, a single "heh" hat took all his breath. In an absolute violation of personal space, Bec slumped over and leaned his head on Lou's shoulder.

"Happy New Years Lou."

It was December 23rd.

"Thanks Reissner, you too." Lou moved his glass to try and pry the detective off of him, but before he could, Bec’s presence redoubled, slinging an arm over Lou's shoulder and leaning heavily into his side. Lou isn’t sure if he’s trying to hug him or not, but before he can ask, Bec’s speaking again.

"Let's go." 

"Where?"

"To the sink. 'M going to be sick." He said it with such a chirper tone, but Lou wasn't taking chances.

\---

They sat, slumped together against the cabinet doors under the sink. Bec looked even more disheveled, though that was Lou's fault for awkwardly trying to hold the detective's long hair back. Even in times where Lou really wanted to see Bec get his just-deserts, there was something awful about seeing him in this state. Bec was back to leaning on Lou, who let him because...any little act of kindness helped, right?

Right.

“Hey Lou…”

“Yeah?” Please say that you want me to drive you home.

".... When you drive me home...Will you stay?" Its mumbled and slurred, but it hits its mark.

Lou felt something twist a knot in his chest. The answer is a rational one, No. Lou didn’t want to spend the night on a couch and the morning of his day off with a hungover Bec. Lou also didn’t want to deal with a guilty Bec who would blame himself for forcing Lou to stay over. Sober Bec liked his alone time and hated touching Lou; drunk Bec, clinging onto Lou, didn’t get a vote.

"No... I can't."

"Please?"

For someone bigger than him, his voice was so small. Lou felt the knot crawl into his throat but refused to yield.

"...No.”

"I don't want to leave the party if I'm just...going to be alone."

"You need to get some sleep Reissner. Let's go home."

Lou involuntarily shivers as Bec buries his face into Lou's neck.

"It's awful being alone."

"I know."

Bec hums a wordless response. Lou listens to his own breathing, then to Bec's. There had to be something he could say, but nothing good enough came to mind. Lou was deeply outside of his expertise, though Bec was certainly too drunk to call him out on being socially awkward later.

He just has to get Bec into his car and take him home without incident. Help him in and help with his shoes and coat. Make sure he got into bed with some water, and then he on his way home. He's being paid for only so much and they aren't...friends exactly. Lou doesn't know what they are, but something feels off about calling the two of them friends. Too familiar to be colleagues, too close to be enemies, too screwed up to be....

Oh jeez.

Lou pushes Bec off of him.

"I'm taking you home, don't fall asleep yet."

Flawless execution.

Suddenly dislodged, Bec grabs Lou’s shoulder to steady himself. Lou reflexively grabs Bec to stop him from falling, only for Bec to plant a kiss right on Lou's mouth.

Syntax error. Execution of plan failed, approaching the worst possible end to this evening.

It tastes bitter, like alcohol and vomit, and it's a terrible, thankfully brief, one-sided kiss but there is no taking it back now. Lou doesn't even manage to string together a coherent thought before Bec's pulled away and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh god…. I’m so sorry...." His words are muffled in his hands, and Lou is barely processing what the Hell is going on, but this is no good either. 

"Bec? Bec are you- oh no please don't start crying, we have so many people to walk past on our way out, come on-"

He pauses as Bec looks up slowly from his hands. He looks at Lou with a strange expression that Lou can't really decipher, especially with over half his brain still stick unraveling prior events.

"You called me Bec."

Oh no, oh no.

"No, I didn't." Lou is pleading and lying to himself AND Be-REISSNER now. But the man in front of him just smiles again, so sad and sweet.

"I like the way you say it."

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Please forget this, oh please forget.

It's an empty smile, he tells himself, you've seen it before and it means nothing. There's so much rattling around in his head and Lou feels like he's going to be sick and he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Alcohol...Be-Reissner is drunk, and he needs his designated driver to get him home safely. None of this matter in the end. They're going to come back to work on the 26th and nothing will have changed. Lou presses his knuckles into the bridge of his nose.

“If you’re really sorry,” Lou hates the way his voice comes out; scratchy and harsh like bramble, “You’ll come with me and get in my damn car without another word.”

Lou has to awkwardly pull Reissner off the floor and guide him to where the coats are kept. Too late does Lou realize he should have fixed Reissner’s hair; by now it’s nearly completely loose, the ribbon normally pulling his hair into a ponytail barely holding anything. It’s the glace they get from two officers walking by that gets under Lou’s skin. A slow, ugly feeling that started digging long ago crawls its way up his throat and eyes, and its burn, burn, burning him inside out. The get their coats, and by some mercy the world gives, everyone Reissner would want to say a lengthy goodbye to have already left. They still say goodbye before they leave anyways. The impeccable Detective Reissner, stumbling out the door like social consequences didn’t exist for him.

They make it to the car without much incident. Reissner makes a bit of a fuss going down the stairs, but the cold, windy air is a powerful motivator to hurry up. Lou’s car is just as cold, but it offered some protecting from the elements. Lou wrangles his intoxicated companion into the front seat like he’s trying to put shoes on a cat. Lou starts up the car and lets the engine warm up. The rumble of the Ford Escort groggily waking up fills the silence between them.

“I messed up, I’m sorry Lou.” 

You should call me Wicken, like everybody else does. Lou tightens his jaw but says nothing. He presses his foot into the clutch and shifts into first gear.

“We’ll be at your building in a few minutes. Just focus on not puking in my car.”

It’s a long drive. A long seven minutes. When they finally pull into the subterranean garage, Lou glances over to Reissner, slumped into the car door. The Ford coughs itself to sleep as the keys pop out of the ignition. Lou debates nudging the detective, or just opening the door he’s leaning on. Not wanting to be the cause of injury, Lou jangled the keys. Reissner’s shoulders jumped. Good, he wasn’t asleep yet. Lou clicked open Reissner’s seatbelt and exited the car. He was about to walk around to open the passenger door, before he hears the door close, and Reissner walking around the front.

The interior of the complex is warm, and even though Lou hates the elevator in this building, there’s no way he’ll be able to drag Reissner up six flights of stairs. Lou’s mind hums idly while the box slowly creeps upwards. He hears a rustling and looks over to see Reissner sitting on the floor. Lou doesn’t offer to help until the elevator doors open, and he has to haphazardly drag the detective into the hallway.

Lou tries to help him stand up, but he’s brushed aside. “I’m fine.” Reissner lets Lou steady him once he’s up. There’s an awkward beat as Lou digs inside of Reissner’s coat pockets for his apartment keys, and it’s a good think sober Reissner isn’t here to make it anymore embarrassing. They make it inside, and Lou helps Reissner with his coat. Or rather, he tries his best to, as the foot difference in height makes the task a bit challenging. Lou unlaces his own shoes before loosening the other’s, feeling far more like a kindergarten teacher than an adult helping another adult. 

Coat and shoes off, Lou herds Reissner to his bedroom, end in sight for this night.

He counts himself lucky that there’s a set of pajamas lying on top of the dresser. The last thing Lou wanted to do was root through Reissner’s clothes drawer while the other stood there watching him. Lou turns to tell the detective to change, only to realize he was alone in the room. Lou breaths in to call out for Reissner, only to hear the bathroom tap running. Lou’s not sure why he wants to wash his hands, until it dawns on him that he’s brushing his teeth. The responsible adult thing to do before going to bed. Lou rubs his jaw unconsciously. The pajama’s sit at the end of the bed, as Lou opts to turn on the bedside lamp instead of the room light.

A few minutes later Reissner comes back, tugging off the tacky sweater and loosely folding it on top of the dresser. Bec- No, Reissner- God was his resolve this weak? Was he really incapable of doing the right thing? Apparently. Lou would have to figure this out later. Right now, Bec was struggling with his brown, reindeer themed tie, while the younger man awkwardly stood nearby, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. 

“...I’ve got it.” Lou takes the tie from the other’s hands as Bec tilts his head back slightly on reflex. The gaudy thing comes undone after some prying and tugging. Lou holds it out in all its unglory and drapes it in the belt hook. 

“Why do you collect these things anyways?” Lou is murmuring the words mostly rhetorically, but it’s a small enough room for the sound to carry easily.

Bec shrugs. “Heard of something called fun Louie?” 

Lou prepares a retort, only to abruptly turn his head away as Bec starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“S’ok. We’re both men.”

Lou feels an otherness within themselves rot out their guts. They swallow it down like the terrible poison they’ve been drinking for 22 years. It’s not their turn to vomit it out tonight. 

“I’ll grab you a bowl from the kitchen while you change.” That seemed reasonable.

Bec mumbled something vaguely affirmative. Lou left him to the feat of exchanging his clothes for bed appropriate ones.

Lou hates knowing where the bowls are kept. He opts to boil water to drag out the time. The moment steam begins to form at the mouth of the kettle, Lou turns off the heat and pours the water into a mug, watching the glowing iron slowly fade. There were no clocks to tell how long he’d been out here, but it had probably been long enough. Bowl in one hand, mug in the other, Lou sincerely hoped Bec wouldn’t make a fuss about the lack of tea. It would be too hot to drink and right now all Lou wanted was to get this over with.

Without hands, Lou couldn’t knock as a precaution, so barging in was the only option. The lamp was still on, illuminating the man sitting at the end of the bed. Something in the back of Lou’s mind noted that Bec’s hair, now completely loose, probably needed a good brushing or it would get matted in the morning. That’s his problem, not mine. Wordlessly, Lou handed his haggard companion the mug and placed the bowl onto the bedside table. It blocked the LED clock, but at least it was close by. Their earlier conversation about staying the night rumbled in Lou’s ears as he glances back to Bec, now finishing off the mug of water.

Lou opens his mouth to say something at the same time Bec hands the mug back. He closes his mouth and throws the covers open.

“Get to bed.”

“Okay” Bec shuffles his way up to the top of the bed. Lou, with an attempted air of irony, tucks the other in, before turning off the lamp and turning towards the door.

Lou hears a soft ‘goodnight’ from the behind him. He pauses in the doorframe but doesn’t turn around.

“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading-Please check out part 2!
> 
> THANK YOU TO LAYZE FOR THE BIRTHDAY FANART   
> https://twitter.com/layzeal/status/1078851472182439938


End file.
